Once upon a time in 1976, two hippies toked a bong and made sweet, sweet love.
Nine months later, they learned that pot can have seriously consequences...and I was born.
I made my appearance bellowing for attention and it really hasn't stopped.
When I was a toddler, they called it colic.
When I was a toddler, they called it colic.
When I was a bossy kindergartner, they called it leadership abilities.
When I was an angsty teenager, they called it hormones.
Now that I'm (arguably) an adult, some call it mental illness.
I was diagnosed with chronic Lyme disease seven months after suffering a systemic breakdown in July of 2012. I began treatment in March 2013. It's believed that I've been infected since childhood in which case 30 years of bizarro medical history is suddenly falling into place.
Also it explains why I have always been unable to walk without tripping and falling. Ha! Suck it, people who thought I was ONLY clumsy. I'm clumsy AND it's partly because I'm full of infectious spirochetes.
Huh.
That sounds gross.
We'll just go with clumsy.
I'm just beginning my treatment which I hear is quite the delightful vacation, but
I have to admit while I'm acutely grateful to have a plan to fix the breakdown since Summer of 2012,
I'm forever grateful to know there actually IS a reason I am the way I am and a lot of me can be fixed.
And it has nothing to do with anything my parents my or may not have smoked.
